


Omission

by artful_fanfic



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Blood and injury mention, F/M, My First AO3 Post, My First Work in This Fandom, My first time publishing any fanfic, Unplanned Pregnancy, surprise
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-15
Updated: 2016-06-05
Packaged: 2018-03-23 01:43:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3750277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/artful_fanfic/pseuds/artful_fanfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's not always the lies we tell.</p><p>Evelyn Trevelyan has had enough when it comes to surprises in her relationship with Blackwall. When consequences of his secrets blindside her, she finds herself in even scarier uncharted territory. Will she be able to close the rift between her and the man she loves before it's too late?</p><p>Post-"Revelations"</p><p>Game spoilers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Lady Evelyn Trevelyan, called Inquisitor and Herald of Andraste, hissed out a breath as she peeled her tunic away from the gash on her side. She bit the inside of her cheek as she gingerly pulled the ruined garment over her head. The taste of copper flooded her mouth and she knew her teeth cut too deeply into the tender flesh. At least she remained silent in her pain. Idols barely bled and never complained.

The wound was barely more than a graze and, fortunately, didn’t need stitching. Her hands wouldn’t be steady enough for the work and she didn’t dare ask anyone for their assistance. All she needed was fresh water and clean bandages, both of which she had in abundance. Power had its privileges. Limping steps carried her across the tent to where her supplies rested and she began to clean her wound with trembling fingers.

“Stinging. Slicing. The pain of the flesh is but a shadow. Some things cut more deeply.” The soft words tumbled forth in that familiar voice. Of course Cole would appear in a moment like this. At least she still wore her breast band. He’d not find her nudity at all awkward, but she certainly would. The brim of his hat came into view before his earnest gaze met hers. “You’re hurt. Hurting. Let me help.”

A ghost of a smile lifted the corners of her lips. “I have this, Cole. I’ve received worse wounds than this little scrape.” While true, she knew he wasn’t talking about the way the Prowler found the gap in her armor. She held his gaze for a moment longer before returning to work. The water in the battered copper basin was turning a vivid pink. She’d have to get a fresh one soon. In the future, she’d have to be more vigilant where her foes were concerned. She couldn’t always assume someone would be there between her and harm.

Cole’s head tilted, the wide brim of his hat obscuring the light cast from the nearby torch. “This is the last time,” he murmured. “He whispers he loves you and each kiss takes him farther away even as he’s still so near. He’s in your arms and his lips taste like good-bye.” He couldn’t know how much those words hurt. He meant well, as he always did. That’s what she reminded herself as each word found holes in the walls she’d had to construct. It was the only way she could move forward.

Her next breath was shaky as trembling hands stilled once more. “Some things are better left alone,” she whispered. There were few memories she wished to lose. Each memory, each part of her past set her on her path and made her who she was. Waking up alone in the pre-dawn light, skin long cooled but sticky with sweat and thighs slick with the remnants of a night spent in the arms of the man she loved was one such memory.

The days to follow, filled with revelations and tainted with lies and the stench of prison would also be among the pile of things she’d rather forget. She told herself that she forgave Blackwall - _Thom_ \- his lies. He was a good man. He had done so much good with the name he’d stolen and would do so much more under his own name and in the name of the Inquisition.

She loved him, Maker help her. _She loved him_. In the name of that love, she had to forgive him for the man he once was. He had broken her heart and left her alone to assume the worst only to find that there were worse things than what her imagination could conjure. He wanted to atone and she was giving him that chance. She was giving them a chance. He, in turn, was giving her time and space.

Someday, they might laugh about all of it. Perhaps that was too optimistic. There could be no laughter about the blood that stained the blades of the men under his command. There would be no chuckles about the blood that stained his hands for his folly. Speaking of the past without raised voices was the most likely outcome on that farflung day. Until then, fury and grief warred just beneath the surface.

Neither emotion seemed likely to give way and she was left with no other choice but to bury them both under the weight of the task at hand. Ancient Magisters and would-be gods didn’t fall by wishing alone. They fell to the staff and sword.

It was easy enough to wrap the Inquisitor’s mantle around her shoulders and lead her party during the daylight. They slipped easily into the routine of traveling punctuated by fighting. It seemed to suit all of their needs. At night, she curled up beneath her blankets and let the rage warm her to shield her from the dreams that threatened to break her resolve.

“If you cling to it, it will scrape you clean. Leave you hollow. But you can’t be hollow now. You’re full.” There was a question in his eyes as enigmas dripped from his lips. “He didn’t just leave you his heart. Pieces of him fused with pieces of you making something - someone new.”

She must have been clenching her jaw because it took effort to open her mouth to speak. “What is it you’re saying? Please, speak as plainly as possible. I’m in no mood for interpretations,” she snapped. While she had boundless patience most of the time, even that had its limits.

He balked at the sharpness of her tone and she immediately regretted her hasty words. As if hearing her unvoiced apology, he nodded with a hint of a smile. Then, he looked down at her midsection, eyebrows knitting with obvious confusion and concern. “How is a baby going to fit in there?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are definitely getting more complicated for Inquisitor Evelyn Trevelyan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your kudos, comments, and feedback! I grin every time I get an e-mail telling me that I have more kudos! Special thanks go to tinyfierce for signing on as my beta. Your input is invaluable and I appreciate being challenged to be a better writer.

Startled, she stiffened and gave him a wide-eyed stare.

The abrupt motion jostled the table and pink water sloshed out of the basin, soaking into the blessedly dark carpet that served as her tent’s floor . Any disbelief and denial she might have felt faded as the memories resurfaced.

She had been relieved to find out that she didn’t have to worry about any monthly discomfort while visiting the Winter Palace . There was too much at stake to have that weigh on her mind.

How long had it been since Blackwall had taken her into his arms under the moonlight? He had been a far more accomplished dancer than she’d expected. Each step had been so perfectly timed with her own, as if they had been dancing partners forever. His strong arms swept her around the balcony to the faint strains of the orchestra within and she was lost in his eyes and the soft smile reserved only for her. In that moment, it felt as if they were truly connected. She never wanted it to end.

The tension between them had been so thick that they’d nearly forgotten themselves on the road . Bull had even commented on it in his usual endearingly crass way.

“Look, no one’s going to judge if they hear strange noises coming out of your tent. You look like you both could use a good fuck. We’ll take care of everything else.”

Neither of them dared to give in while still within Orlesian borders. Stopping a civil war didn’t mean that they were clear of danger. They had to remain vigilant. There was always time once they got back to Skyhold.

Blackwall hadn’t told her that their time would be limited .

Back in the present, her hand pressed flat against her abdomen. It had been two months since they rescued the Empress and he'd left her alone in the barn with a Warden badge and farewell note.Two months of skirmishes and heartbreak where she’d been fortunate that she remembered to eat, much less take care of her body’s other needs . In all of that time, it hadn’t even occurred to her that the weeks had come and gone without bleeding.

“Oh, Maker’s  _breath_ , I hadn’t even considered - I didn’t think it was possible. He was supposed to be a Grey Warden .” She swayed with the revelation and tasted bile, her vision swimming. Whether it was from the panic clawing at her throat or the nausea she had ignored and dismissed was anyone’s guess. Evelyn was long past caring.

“You’re not happy.”

It was a statement, not a question. Cole moved swiftly and a chair hit the back of her knees. Once she was seated and in no danger of falling over, he studied her expression. “Babies make people happy. I thought - A girl with dark hair and her father’s serious eyes, but that smile? Warm and wild. That smile is mine.” He shook his head and took a step back.

Her fingers left streaks of watery blood on the pale skin of her stomach . A clean cloth was in her hand before she reached for it. “I’m surprised. I’m confused. I don’t -” Her breath hitched. “You can’t tell anyone, Cole. No one can know.” She couldn’t look at him. He saw too clearly and she couldn’t face that now. Her hands shook as she scrubbed  at her marked skin.

Endless minutes passed before he spoke at last. “I will keep your secret. Like flowers picked from the Chantry garden. Not supposed to, but Mother's sick and they made her smile. She still doesn't know, but this? It’s his secret too. He should know. When we get to Skyhold, you will tell him? Promise? ” His hands were cool as they covered hers. The sudden contact was enough to make her look up at his face. There was a sternness she had never seen. “It’s a beauty he hasn’t broken .  _Tell_ him.”

Before she could reply, he was gone.

“I hate it when you do that,” she grumbled to the empty air .

********

Never before had Evelyn been so grateful for the nearly breakneck pace with which they traveled.

Everyone was eager to leave Emprise du Lion and its bitter cold behind them . She was content with the dreamless sleep that claimed her once exhaustion had her collapsing onto her narrow cot every night . Too soon, they would be walking through the gates of Skyhold. The thought used to fill her with joy.

Joy was the farthest thing from what she currently felt.

All she wanted to do was hide in her tent until daybreak, but that behavior would arouse suspicion. She had no fresh battle wounds to nurse, after all. They would expect her to join them by the fire. They always did. It was a their ritual. No matter how long they had been traveling together, there were always new stories to tell and jokes to share .

She lingered as long as she dared, composing excuses like needing to wash off the dust of the road, or perhaps she had to oil her bow. Bull would have fun with that one, complete with an accompanying lewd gesture.

At least some things still remained predictable and unchanging. Thank the Maker for small favors.

“Hey Boss, I saved you a seat,” Bull called from his perch by the fire once she had emerged from the safety of her tent. Judging by the way his eye gleamed, there was something on his mind. Perhaps it was just the reflection of the flames, but there was no shaking off the sense that he saw too much.

Still, an invitation was an invitation and she sank down onto the log beside him . “Thanks, Bull. I know that they’re going fast. I’d hate to lose out on my chance to spend time with my favorite Qunari.” She nudged him with her shoulder, an unbidden smile lifting the corners of her lips.

“I’m your only Qunari . Unless you’ve been hiding things from me.” He chuckled and took a deep drink from his tankard. “If so, I’d be impressed. You’re shit at keeping things secret.”

She shot him a questioning look and he  shook his head. Now was not the time for sharing, apparently.

“I find our Inquisitor’s innate honesty to be a virtue,” Cassandra declared from across the fire. “Do not let this spy convince you otherwise.” The Seeker’s voice softened and Evelyn could have sworn that there was a hint of a smile in her expression.

Evelyn didn’t know what to say. Cassandra’s compliments were few and always sincere.

“Thank you,” she managed with a smile of her own.

Hours later, only she and Bull remained around the dying fire. They had lapsed into a companionable silence, but her mind was far from quiet .

“You’re thinking too loud, Boss. You’re bound to wake someone up with all that racket,” he joked as he drew her out of her reverie.

“You have my apologies,” she found herself chuckling. “I didn’t mean to be so noisy. I’ll try to keep it down.”

“Good. Seeker’s a real bear when she’s rudely awakened.” They both snickered then, remembering Cassandra’s encounter with a late-night ursine visitor. It had gone poorly - for the bear, of course, as well as any attempt she had made at getting a decent night’s rest .

The log creaked as Bull turned to face Evelyn more fully. “So, we’ve got, what? Seven months, give or take a couple of weeks, until we have a little Inquisitor running around?”

Her mug slipped from her fingers and landed with a quiet thud. “Shit.” She let out a shaky breath. If Bull had figured it out, who else knew? Oh, Andraste's tits. This was no good. No good at all. “H-how did you know? Is it obvious?”

“Ben-Hassrath.” His smile was crooked and amused as he continued, setting his tankard aside to count off each of her body’s betrayals with his fingers. “Your gait has changed and your appetite is all weird. Also, don’t hit me for saying this-” He held a hand up to shield himself from her ire,  “Your tits have gotten bigger .”

She gave his arm a half-hearted punch. “I can’t believe you’ve been looking at my breasts, Bull. I’m your commanding officer, not some barmaid you can ogle.”

His bark of laughter startled a nearby nug. It darted past them and into the nearby bushes .  _Lucky nug_ . If only she could follow.

“It’s not my fault. They’re just there and hard to ignore when I’m looking down at you. Don’t change the subject.” He leaned in. “I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt and assume you just figured this out or else you’d have told Blackwall.” After her nod, he grunted. “Good. If he knew, it would be his shield and not the Seeker’s between you and the nasties .”

Evelyn sighed as she bent to retrieve her fallen mug. At least she’d finished the cocoa concoction Bull seemed to favor. “I didn’t realize until Cole -” She  sighed and rubbed the growing ache at the base of her skull. “Well, you know how Cole is. I’ve asked him to say nothing to anyone. I know I don’t have to tell you that.”

“Yeah, Boss, I’ll keep your secret, but people are going to eventually notice. You’d better tell Blackwall before someone else or your waistline does.”

Under his scrutiny, she suddenly wished for a demon attack. Maybe some Venatori or Red Templars could leap out of the bushes and interrupt.

He leaned his elbows on his massive knees.  “You’re still pissed. I get it. We all get it. Shit, Seeker’s never going to forgive him and Cullen’s just stepping back because of you. Don’t let that anger get all twisted with the hurt. That’s how you make stupid decisions.”

“I’m going to tell him,” she insisted while studiously avoiding his gaze. “I just need to figure out how this is going to fit in with everything. You know. That whole end-of-the-world thing we’re trying to prevent.” She felt the sting of tears pricking at her eyes and told herself it was just the smoke from the fire. “I’ll tell him when the time is right.”

His derisive snort had her glancing back up at him. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.” He lifted his tankard and emptied it. “Beneath the fancy Inquisitor armor is a woman who is hurt because the man she loves lied to her and left. Make peace with her before she leads you down roads you can’t come back from .” With a grunt of effort, he stood. “Night, Boss.”

With that, he left her to her thoughts and the fire. It was smoldering embers by the time she finally sought refuge in her tent.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a flashback and a little conversation. Also, the set-up for what promises to be a memorable meal.

Even after all of this time, the first glimpse of Skyhold was enough to take Evelyn’s breath away. The way it rose up from the mountains like a natural extension of the snow-capped peaks was a marvel of engineering unequaled in all of Thedas. While certainly impressive and imposing, it felt like home to her in a way that her family’s estate in Ostwick never had.

For the first time since they discovered the fortress, she dreaded walking through its gates.

They had sent scouts on ahead to let Skyhold know that its Inquisitor would soon be returning. Word had undoubtedly spread and Evelyn knew that Blackwall was watching for their approach from the battlements. She wondered if it was hope that would keep his gaze trained on the horizon or if, like her, he feared that no amount of apologizing would ever make things right between them.

As their caravan drew near, she tried to distract herself by listening to the growing murmurs of excitement amongst her party and the troops that accompanied them. Her efforts were unsuccessful - her mind was occupied only with thoughts of _him_.

This had been the longest they had been separated since he had gone to Val Royeaux to take responsibility for his past misdeeds. The last words they had spoken before her departure had been stilted and unnecessarily formal. They were added to her ever-growing list of regrets.

_For once, the gardens were quiet as the cool evening air sent everyone indoors. Evelyn liked the peace and the comforting smell of untainted earth. She’d never been one for this sort of tranquility, but when everyone was constantly clamoring for her attention, she had to take these moments where she could find them._

“ _My lady.”_

_The heart-breakingly familiar voice broke the silence. In times past, those two words would have been enough to make her melt into his embrace. Too much had happened since._

_She lifted her eyes to him, her calm expression hiding the tempest within. He had no right to still make her heart race. It took her a moment to find her Inquisitor Voice. “Yes, Blackwall, how may I be of assistance?”_

_Her heart twisted at the way her tone made him flinch. Maker, she didn’t want to_ _hurt_ _him. Not really._

_He cleared his throat nervously, his eyes dropping briefly to his clasped hands, work-roughened fingers covered by his worn gloves. She vividly recalled how they had felt against her skin, leather and flesh. Her next breath caught in her throat._

_A beat passed before his eyes met hers again. “I just wanted to wish you well on your journey tomorrow. If you change your mind, I can be ready to join you at a moment’s notice. It would be no trouble.”_

“ _I_ _have made my decision, Blackwall, but I appreciate the offer. Thank you.” Her gaze slid to the papers on her lap before she was able to look back up at him again. She hoped he didn't notice the slight tremor that shook her fingers._

_Understanding her words for the dismissal they were, he inclined his head. “You're welcome, my lady,” he spoke in a voice thick with unvoiced emotions. She could hear his pain in every word. “I-,” he began before clearing his throat once more. “Have a safe journey.” With that, he turned on his heel and headed back the way he came._

_She listened as his heavy footsteps grew fainter, wishing she could find the words to call him back to her side. None came and the garden's peace grew stifling in its silence. It took more effort than she cared to admit to head straight to her quarters and not the Herald's Rest, or worse, the barn._

_He had been in the crowd to see her off just after dawn. It had been his gloved hand that helped her onto her mount, thick fingers squeezing hers through the layers of leather. She should have said something then. Instead, she merely squeezed his fingers in return before pulling her hand away._

The distance and time were supposed to help her come to terms with what his true identity meant to her - to them. It wouldn’t be the first time things didn’t go as she planned. Nor, she sighed as they approached the gates, would it be the last.

********

Hours later, Evelyn was finally able to flee to her quarters. Between her advisors’ eagerness to be updated on the state of Sahrnia after the Red Templars’ eviction and the dignitaries Josephine insisted that she just _had_ to greet, there had been little time to do much more than hide behind the mask of the Inquisitor and hope that no one noticed how her façade was beginning to crack.

Once safely behind the locked door, she leaned back and slowly sank to the floor with an audible scrape of her armor against the scarred wood. She winced as the sound echoed in the narrow stairway. Judging from the footsteps that soon followed, she was not alone.

The whisper of expensive fabric and lightly creaking boots of the finest leather the Inquisition could procure had her smiling despite herself.

“You don’t need to announce yourself, Dorian. Your attire does that well enough for you,” she chuckled weakly, her head falling back against the door.

“I don’t know whether to be insulted or complimented,” he scoffed. “I’ll assume the latter because you’d _never_ do the former. Now, let’s get you onto your feet and up into that bath Josephine had prepared for you.” He held a hand out to her. “If you had taken any longer, I would have taken advantage of it in your absence. There’s no sense letting luxuriousness go to waste. I knew you’d forgive me.”

She accepted the offer of assistance, her muscles aching in protest as she pulled herself to her feet. “Well, I’m glad that I took just long enough. Why are you here, anyway? Don’t you have books to insult and people to bait?” Pausing a moment, she peered curiously up at his face. “Or is it the reverse?”

His laughter was a balm she didn’t know she needed. “While my social calendar is certainly full, I always have time for you.” His expression softened as he led her up the stairs. “Bull said you might need a friend right now and that I was ‘just the ‘Vint for the job.’”

While she trusted Bull to keep her condition a secret, there was a heart-stopping moment when Evelyn wondered what he may have told his lover. “Remind me to thank him for his interference later. I’m fine, though. Truly.”

Once they reached the top of the stairs he stopped and turned to look at her, long-fingered hands gripping her shoulders. “You look awful.” He clucked his tongue in distaste. “Let’s get the road grime off of you and see if we can’t find a way to fix that.”

With those words, any hopes she may have had for solitude flew swiftly out of her quarters' elaborate windows and she hoped her words sounded less resigned than she felt. “I leave myself in your capable hands.”

“Oh, good.” He clapped his hands together. “Now, do you require assistance in getting out of your armor or shall I focus my efforts on finding you something presentable to wear for dinner?”

“Dinner? What’s special about dinner this evening?” To answer his earlier question, she tugged her gloves off and set them aside. Her fingers might have been trembling, but she was determined to undress herself.

Despite his narrowed eyes – he obviously suspected something but was too polite to bring it up - Dorian apparently decided to leave her be and crossed the room to start going through her wardrobe. “It’s nothing incredibly formal. Varric and I thought it might be nice to get all of your inner circle and advisors together before we all go in different directions again. You have _no_ idea how difficult it was to get Vivienne and Sera to agree to attend any sort of banquet together, informal or otherwise.”

At her snort of laughter, he continued. “Varric said it was like conducting negotiations with the Merchant’s Guild. Despite my fortunate lack of experience in that arena, I find myself inclined to agree.”

Once free of her armor’s confines, she took a deep breath. “So, it’s just a family dinner of sorts? Why the fuss over what I’m wearing? Everyone in that table has seen me in charred armor or covered in blood.”

“Or nothing at all!” He helpfully chimed in. “It’s not about trying to impress anyone. It’s about boundaries between your time in the field as the Inquisitor and your life here as Evelyn.”

She tugged her tunic over her head, balled it up, and promptly threw it at him. It hit him square in the back and she allowed herself a moment to enjoy that victory before returning to the rest of her clothing. “If that’s your plan, why invite Vivienne at all? To her, I’m always the Inquisitor, no matter where I am.”

He bent smoothly to retrieve her tossed tunic. “We were inviting everyone. It would have been _rude_ to slight her. There’s no telling what form her revenge may have taken if we’d neglected to do our best to see that she attended.”

“So, everyone is going to be there? Even-” It suddenly became difficult to speak over the growing lump in her throat.

“Yes,” his voice was uncharacteristically soft, “even Blackwall.” He turned away from her clothing, frowning as he studied her. “I don’t understand what is happening between you two. You’ve hardly spoken since you saw him freed from his chains. Unless that kiss in front of everyone was merely a calculated political move on your part, there’s still something between you.”

She tugged impatiently at her breast band, wincing at the forgotten tenderness there. Impending motherhood was causing a number of unexpected and unwelcome changes. “Everything _hurts_ ,” she whispered, unable to trust her voice at a louder volume. “Can we just not talk about it? Please.”

“Absolutely. Emotional displays make us both uncomfortable.” While his words were flippant, the concern in his dark eyes was genuine. “Now,” he gestured toward her recent injury, “tell me about what that bandage is hiding.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drama at the dinner table!
> 
> Thanks to everyone who has commented and left kudos! I hope this chapter is worth the wait.

Short of telling him exactly why she couldn’t attend this dinner after all, there was no escaping Dorian’s clutches as he escorted her through Skyhold. The further away they got from her quarters, the more desperate Evelyn became. She tried a variety of excuses up to and including having some paperwork that needed her immediate attention.

“Cullen will be there. He seemed _quite_ excited by the prospect of having an evening off.” Dorian delivered his pronouncement with a pointed look in her direction. “When the Commander can put aside his reports for a few hours, I think you are more than capable of doing the same.”

She was doomed.

They had finally finished refurbishing the formal dining room to Josephine's satisfaction. The rotting doors had been replaced with fine oak carved with the mark of the Inquisition so that all who walked through them knew with whom they dined. This room had been intended for special occasions and visiting dignitaries of the highest order. Judging from what Evelyn could hear as she approached, she doubted the luxurious furnishings had been intended for the Inquisitor's inner circle.

“Sera, don't throw that!” Josephine's exasperation was unmistakable through the thick wood.

Dorian's lips twitched with the effort it took to keep from laughing while the servants opened the door for them. He gestured for her to proceed him while he lowered into an elegant bow. “After you, Lady Inquisitor.”

“I hate you, Dorian.” Her words held more laughter than heat and were answered with a low chuckle.

“I know. It's because I'm so beautiful,” he replied with an astounding degree of sincerity. “If you relaxed more, you too may one day look at least _half_ as attractive as I do. Now stop frowning and do try to smile. We're all friends here.”

They were met at the door by Bull. The Qunari tugged Dorian in for a quick, bruising kiss before releasing him. “Sit down, kadan. I need a quick word with the Inquisitor.”

Dazed, the mage nodded and did as he was told without further comment. Evelyn envied Bull's ability to accomplish that incredible feat. She doubted her kisses would do the trick no matter the recipient.

“So, Boss, I had a word with the servants beforehand. They’ll be serving a variety of non-alcoholic beverages alongside the usual assortment of strong drinks.” He nodded at one of the servants in the corner before returning his focus to her. “I’ll keep my eye on which is which and make sure you get the right drinks.”

Evelyn hadn't even thought that far ahead. As always, Bull had anticipated her needs. It was as sweet as it was unsettling. “Thank you, I didn't – thank you.”

His smile was amused as he studied her expression. “One more thing: if you start to freak out or need to get out of here, let me know. I've got a signal worked out to get word to the Chargers for a distraction. Krem's got a plan. A damn good one.”

“I don't think that will be necessary, but thank you. You've thought of everything.” She almost wanted to hug him, but that would be a little awkward with everyone nearby. There would be questions as to what prompted the sudden display of affection.

“Not everything, but I did my best. You've got the big chair next to mine. Josephine arranged the seats - something about trying to 'prevent some kind of incident.'” He snorted at the sentiment and nudged her shoulder. “Now, let's get to the table before people start wondering what's keeping us.”

With each step closer to the table, her pulse began to race. It took all of her effort to keep her breathing even. One glance showed her where where Josephine had placed Blackwall. He was at the far end with Sera and - _Maker’s breath_ \- he was looking right at her. For a moment, their eyes met.

The ghosts of forgotten laughter haunted the edge of her consciousness, skirting around her good intentions to face this situation head-on. She could hear the warmth of his chuckle as he brushed the rough pad of his thumb over her bottom lip, coaxing her mouth open. He had asked for her trust, covered her eyes in dark cotton, and rewarded her with kisses that left her breathless.

She tore her gaze away, blinking back the tears blurring her vision.

“While I appreciate your intentions, Bull,” she murmured in a disgruntled aside when she claimed her seat next to the Qunari, “I could really use a drink.”

Bull laughed and shook his head. “No can do, Boss. Try to relax. It's just dinner.”

“Yes, and the Fade is just full of sunshine, roses, and cuddly lambs.” Her fingers curled around the goblet to her right and she took a hearty sip. It was some form of fruit juice and it took a tremendous amount of effort to keep her disappointment from being obvious.

As soon as Evelyn had settled in her seat, the servants began to bring out the first course. The strong odor of fish filled her nose and curdled the limited contents of her stomach. As delicately as she could manage, she nudged her plate forward while catching a servant’s eye. “Can you - I’m afraid that fish doesn’t appeal right now, do you have something else?”

Confusion filled the servant’s face and the poor young man’s eyes darted over to Josephine. “Ambassador Montilyet said,” he mumbled. It took him a moment to find his voice and continue. “Well, th-there’s some soup. It’s simple country fare. Nothin’ grand. Broth with vegetables.”

Evelyn’s stomach rumbled approvingly and she nodded. “That sounds delightful,” she replied. Hopefully, she sounded more reassuring than she felt.

The servant bobbed his head and bowed before retrieving her plate and scurrying off.

“You have always been fond of that particular dish before, Evelyn, was there something amiss with its preparation or presentation?”

Leave it to Josephine to be concerned about things like that. It was an endearing and thankfully predictable trait.

“Oh no, it was presented beautifully as ever. After traveling so far today, I just craved something different. That’s all.” Evelyn’s fingers drummed lightly on the table before she caught herself. After that game of Wicked Grace, Josephine knew all of her tells.

Whether she caught the gesture or not, the Ambassador simply nodded. “That is completely understandable. You have had quite the long day’s journey.” There was an understanding smile and sympathy in the Antivan’s dark eyes. Guilt settled into the pit of Evelyn’s stomach. “I would have insisted we postpone the festivities,” Josephine continued, “but a delay was impossible considering our troop’s movements toward the Arbor Wilds.”

“Ruffles, stop talking about work!” Varric’s voice cut through the air from his end of the table. “We agreed. Stories, yes, but everything else? Leave that for tomorrow.”

With Josephine’s attention directed toward the dwarf, Evelyn reached for Bull’s goblet. There was no way she was going to get through the night stone cold sober. When the depressingly familiar taste of fruit juice hit her tongue, she set it down and glowered at him. “Really?”

“I know you, Boss. Keep trying. I could use the laugh.” 

That knowing look in his eye was infuriating.

Cursing under her breath, she curled her fingers around her salad fork and seriously considered stabbing him with it. Unfortunately, he would likely think that was similarly amusing. There was no winning when one’s opponent found your efforts hilarious. “You start laughing, I gouge that pretty eye out with a spoon.” 

He laughed and his eye remained in place, as her soup had arrived and she was too famished to commit acts of violence before she had eaten. Afterward, it would be anyone’s guess.

When the second course of roast beef arrived without a protest from her stomach, Evelyn sent up a quick silent prayer to the Maker, Andraste, and anyone else who was listening. Fish, she could give up for the duration, but meat? That would not do at all.

“Sera!” Josephine’s scolding brought Evelyn’s attention down to that end of the table.

The elf was holding her serving of beef in hand and gnawing on it. Judging from the glimmer in Sera’s eyes, she knew exactly what she was doing. “Wot?” she answered around a big mouthful of food.

The ambassador clucked her tongue. “You were given a knife for - never mind.” She simply shook her head. There were some battles that were best not fought.

Sera’s grin was was triumphant as she attacked her meal with the same ferocity she showed her enemies. She was nothing if not consistent in that regard.

Unfortunately, looking down at that side of the table also meant catching a glimpse of Blackwall. If Evelyn were being honest with herself, she would admit to wanting to see him. In the flickering candlelight, he looked tired and the years seemed to hang heavily on him. Though she knew there was a nontrivial distance between their ages, she’d never given it more than a passing thought.

Her cheeks heated when he caught her staring and she hastily grabbed the nearest goblet, sloshing liquid over its rim. The damned fruit juice would have left a stain had the tablecloth not been dark. Josephine’s forethought saved the day.

“Is it time for Krem’s plan, Boss?” Bull offered quietly. “Just say the word.”

Evelyn began to methodically cut her meal into suitably bite-sized pieces. Setting a good example would doubtlessly please Josephine. “Does it involve explosives?”

His subtle cough told her all she needed to know.

It was tempting. “No, I can make it through this. Besides, there’s too much tension for _that_ sort of plan. Save it for the next difficult dinner, okay?”

For a split second, she could have sworn that Bull was disappointed. “Fine, but the offer’s still on the table, okay? It’ll be fun to interrupt a big state dinner that’s boring the crap out of you, right?”

“What is this about interrupting state dinners?” Josephine’s hearing was far more keen than she let on.

Somehow, Evelyn made it through dinner without too much trouble. She only stole a few more glances at the far end of the table. Glances, a small part of her was happy to realize, that had been reciprocated. It wasn't until dessert that things began to fall apart.

Vivienne turned to her with what Evelyn assumed to be a sympathetic expression. The Orlesian enchanter was never very good with that level of sincerity, but her attempt was laudable. “My dear,” she began, and Evelyn had a sneaking suspicion that she wasn't going to like what followed. “I am so proud to see how well you have settled into your role of Inquisitor. To set aside your personal desires in order to more fully embrace your responsibilities is no mean feat and you have done it admirably.” She smiled warmly. “Spending so much time in Orlais has been good for you.”

Evelyn’s brows knit with confusion as she took a moment to understand what Vivienne had said. Then, realization dawned. The mage meant well, she reminded herself - it was the only thing that kept her from stabbing the older woman with a fork. That would definitely lead to some kind of incident.

“While I certainly appreciate the compliment, Vivienne, I fear that you may be mistaken with regards to the status of my personal desires.” She forced the words through gritted teeth, a skill acquired long ago at court in Ostwick. “Whatever may or may not be going on is neither your business nor the business of anyone else. I have and will continue to fulfill my duties to the best of my ability regardless of my chosen partner.”

Bull's grunted approval and Vivienne's widened eyes replaced Evelyn's anger with a surge of triumph. That feeling of victory was short-lived when she heard _him_ laugh. The fork fell from Evelyn's fingers and hit her plate with a distinctive clatter.

Sera must have said something to him, a joke or some filthy comment. Blackwall was smiling and laughter tumbled from his lips, warm and genuine. There had once been a time when Evelyn made him laugh like that.

“Keep breathing, Boss,” Bull reassured her, his thick fingers brushing against her arm to ground her in the moment.

Her chair scraped across the floor and she winced at the sound. Even with her fraying nerves, she had no desire to ruin any of Josephine's hard work. “If you'll excuse me, I – there are things I need to – please, carry on without me.”

For a moment, she mistook the look in Vivienne's eyes for genuine concern. “If I've said anything to offend-”

Evelyn lifted a hand to halt the confused apology. “It's all right. It was an honest mistake. I hope you enjoy the rest of the evening.”

By the time she made it to her room, she realized that everyone would assume something had gone wrong. She had left her cake behind, uneaten.

*******

Sleep eluded her. She couldn't get comfortable, her mind wouldn't stop whirring with broken promises and hopes that yet lived, and dinner sat poorly in her stomach. With a groan of frustration, she threw off the blankets and sat up. Perhaps a walk would clear her head.

She thrust her feet into her soft, doeskin slippers and grabbed a coat before making her way out of her quarters. The night was still and she was unlikely to run into anyone important at this hour, and the guards were used to her occasional late-night roaming.

The wind atop the battlements bit into her skin through the thin fabric of her nightgown and she drew her coat tighter around herself. If pressed, she doubted she could explain why she'd come all the way out here. There was something comforting about it, fond memories that lingered beyond the lies.

Drawn out of her thoughts by the sound of heavy footfalls hitting the stone, Evelyn turned to find their source. She saw the sturdy boots first followed by the quilted armor she’d lovingly mocked and cursed. Her fingers recalled how infuriating it had been to peel away each layer to get to the man underneath. Even then, she’d never truly touched _him_.

They stood there facing each other, silence filling the space between them. At last, he spoke, his deep voice weary.

“I didn't think to find you here. I was on my way to your – oh, Maker's balls, Evelyn, I am bloody awful at this.”

He used her name. Her breath caught in her throat to hear it fall from his lips. He had rarely called her by it in the past, preferring to call her 'My Lady' or refer to her by her official title. It had been endearing until she realized it was another way of setting himself apart from her. It had been another barrier. He was a supplicant in the face of her glory.

Yet all she had ever wanted to be was a woman to him.

“Tell me what you're trying to do and I'll see if I agree with you.” It was the best she could do for him right now, trying to keep the encounter lighter than the last they'd had. Formality was difficult in her current state of undress.

“Evelyn, I-” he began, his voice faltering. “I just wanted to apologize. Again. You can send me away if you like. I know I deserve that after-” He’d obviously practiced these words in her absence. He cleared his throat. “After everything. You still have my heart. Do with it what you will.”

Her intentions wavered in the face of his apology and the heart-breaking earnestness of his expression. It was all she could do to keep the tears at bay; she wanted to scream at him, rail at him about all the ways he’d hurt her. The fight in her fled, however, and her shoulders sagged. “Can we not do this right now? Can you just hold me?”

He didn't need to be told twice as he closed the distance between them. His large arms enfolded her and she sank against him.

“I am so sorry,” he whispered. Gloved fingers stroked her unbound hair, soothing and familiar.

She burrowed into his embrace as her eyelids grew heavy. “I know,” she breathed against his neck. Closing her eyes, she savored his warmth and felt the tension drain from her shoulders.

When she opened her eyes again, sunlight was streaking through the stained glass windows of her quarters. She had no memory of making it back to her own bed, but the heavy arm draped over her and warm body pressed against her back was answer enough to that question. Despite everything, she found herself smiling.

He had stayed the night.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Conversations are hard. Let's go fighting!

_Blood. It was everywhere. It coated her fingers and soaked into her skirts, forever staining the fine fabric._

“ _Mama!” Evelyn was screaming, ten years old again and holding her mother’s copper-splattered hands._

“ _Mama,” her voice splintered, and tears spilled over her cheeks._

_Images blurred and memories shifted. Lady Corliss Trevelyan was still too pale and the light in her eyes was gone. Though she lived, the woman she was had died along with her stillborn son. All Evelyn remembered was the blood and the too-small hand of the brother she wasn’t supposed to see and would never meet._

“ _Mama,” she wept at her bedside, slender fingers clinging to her mother’s cool, clean hand._

_The bed faded from view. She was older now, taller and with fingers calloused from combat. The mark on her left hand shone, casting an eerie glow over her swollen belly. In the dim light, she saw drops of blood at her feet._

_She collapsed as the drops became a flood, fabric bunched between her thighs with the effort to keep it from spreading. Her fingers were slick and rust-colored in the fading glow of her mark._

_Blackwall was there, clinging to her tightly. “My Lady! Oh, Maker, let her keep breathing.”_

_No matter how solid his arms felt, they couldn’t keep her anchored._

_She was gone._

“ _Evelyn!”_

“Evelyn!” His voice was in her ear, thick fingers brushing the sweat-dampened hair from her forehead. “Wake up, love.”

Her heart was racing and she was breathless. His anguished voice from her dream still rang in her ears; like the pooling blood, she knew it would follow her here - a shadow she could never banish no matter how bright the light.

When she finally managed to crack her eyes open, he was staring down at her. His expression was a mixture of fear and concern as he gently caressed the side of her face. Words died in her throat and his lips pressed to her forehead, his beard lightly tickling her nose.

“You were having a nightmare. I couldn’t -” There was a tremor in his voice, a shuddering to his breaths.

The darkness followed her, even here.

He cleared his throat. “Do you want to talk about it?” It was a shy offer, one she knew came with effort.

Swallowing hard, she shook her head. “No, I just - I want to forget. Please. I can’t-” Telling him meant telling him everything. There weren’t words for that yet and a small, selfish part of her was smug about denying him truths that were his.

Her refusal, while not unreasonable, still seemed to hurt. Pain flickered across his expression in the pre-dawn light and he pulled away from her, sitting up in the bed that suddenly felt too large. “Want a glass of wine or something stronger to help you sleep?”

It had been on the tip of her tongue to accept, but she knew better. She reached out to pull him close once again. “No. I just need you.”

His teeth flashed white against the dark field of his beard. It was a shadow of the smiles he once gave her - smiles only meant for the woman he loved. He may have lied to her about so much, but some things she knew in her heart to be true. “Then take what you need.” His words were a rumble deep in his chest as he covered her body with his.

Guilt made each caress feel like a lie, and each kiss was a broken promise. This time, they were hers.

********

Evelyn found Dorian in the library. That didn’t come as a surprise. After all, her favorite Tevinter Mage absolutely loved complaining about the Inquisition’s poor supply of arcane texts. What surprised her was the fact that he was humming. While she couldn’t place the tune, she had to grin. He was happy and it showed.

For a moment, a pang of envy hit her square in the chest. Would she ever feel that kind of happiness again? These days, she had her doubt. Still, he and Bull deserved what they’d found with each other. She couldn’t begrudge them that.

The humming stopped as his long fingers pulled a book off of the shelf. “If you were attempting to sneak up on me, you failed miserably. You can do better and I am positively _offended_ that you didn’t try harder.” He sighed dramatically and pushed the book back into place. “I know you’re capable of better than that.”

“I apologize, Dorian.” It took some effort to keep the laughter from her voice. “In my defense, I wasn’t going for stealth.” She let out a breath, her weight shifting from foot to foot. “I just wanted to ask you something.”

He must have heard something in her voice, judging from the slightly alarmed look in his dark eyes. It quickly vanished behind a charming smile. “Are you here to ask more questions about my fabled past? As you know, talking about myself is my _most_ favorite activity.”

“Is it?” Her eyebrows rose as an amused smile lifted the corners of her lips. “Bull might take offense to that.”

“Perhaps there are other activities I _might_ enjoy more.” Color flooded his cheeks and he coughed lightly. “Don’t change the subject. What is it that you came to ask?”

Her smile faded and she ran a hand over her hair, trying to smooth some of the stray strands back into place. “Do you know of something that might help me sleep? An herb or potion of anything of that nature?”

His head tilted to the side, his expression thoughtful. “I thought you usually turned to wine or other spirits, have you considered simply drinking more? Not that I’m advocating pre-bedtime drunkenness, but I know that it can help to feel numb at times.”

When he said things like that, Dorian just made her want to hug him. He wouldn’t forgive her for squeezing wrinkles into his latest ensemble so she kept her hands to herself. Instead, she let out a breath and lowered her voice before responding. “I’m afraid that alcohol isn’t an option.”

Confusion furrowed his brows and he quickly looked away from her to cast a furtive glance around the library. “I think you and I need to continue this discussion elsewhere. Your quarters?” Without waiting for an answer, he clasped a hand around one of her elbows and started steering her out of the library.

A short while later, he had guided her to the couch in her room and took up a perch beside her. “When you say that alcohol is no longer an option, are you saying what I think you’re saying?” His gaze dipped to her midsection before lifting to meet her eyes.

There was no hiding from it now. She nodded once and rested a hand over her still-flat belly. It would fill out soon enough. “Yes, that is _exactly_ what I’m trying to say.”

“ _Kaffas_! You are - you’re with child? Right now?” His incredulity was accompanied by a slight rise in pitch. After clearing his throat, however, his voice regained its usual tone. “Have you told him? Blackwall, I mean.”

She stared down at her fingers. They were tangling with the hem of her shirt. Her inability to form words and apparent nervousness were answer enough.

The news propelled him from the couch and the patter of his expensive boots echoed in the room while he strode over to one of the windows. When he turned to face her, it was hard to place the emotion in his eyes. “Bull knew before I did, didn’t he?”

His question was largely rhetorical, but she made an affirmative noise to confirm his suspicions. “He guessed on the road home from Sahrnia,” she explained. “His Ben-Hassrath training is irritating, right? There was no hiding it from him.”

“First, I can’t believe that you haven’t told Blackwall yet, but I suppose _that_ I can understand considering everything that’s gone on between you.” He gestured vaguely before his hand fell to his side. “I am, however, rather _hurt_ that it’s taken you this long to tell me.”

“I haven’t known for very long,” she protested as she pushed up from the couch. Maker, she could use a drink right about now. She cast a longing look at the untouched carafe of wine on her desk. With her luck, Bull had probably replaced its contents with more of that damn fruit juice.

Dorian crossed the floor to rest a surprisingly gentle hand on her shoulder while the fingers of his free hand tipped her chin up, turning her gaze to his. “Is this something that you want, Evelyn? It’s obviously still early. There are - well, there are options.”

Her eyes widened and she inhaled sharply, her arms protectively wrapping around midsection. “I - the timing is terrible. Everything is awful and this-?” The crack in her voice betrayed her. “I can face demons, Red Templars, and insane Magisters bent on becoming gods, but having a baby?” She let out a shuddering breath. “I don't think there's anything that scares me more than this.”

“And you’re not going to run from it no matter how much it frightens you?” His voice was gentle as his hand fell from her face. “That’s the Evelyn I know and adore. It doesn’t explain why you haven’t told him yet. If you planned to - you know, I would understand not telling him. I would _disapprove_ , but it is your choice to make.”

“How do you know I haven’t told Blackwall?” She rolled her shoulder out from under his hand, hastily looking away from the mage who knew her uncomfortably well. They were two disappointments cut from similar, ill-fitting cloth.

“If he knew, we all would. It’s not a secret he’d want to _hide._ ” A wry chuckle fell from his lips. “He would probably have that griffon finished by now so he could start working on a cradle for the latest addition to our family.”

“Our family,” she echoed. It was a statement of fact. From different backgrounds and together for different reasons, they had become a family. That thought, at least, was comforting even when everything else felt like it was going to fall apart.

Dorian took a moment to give her a smile that quickly faded. “And you’re not taking him with us to the Arbor Wilds. How long do you plan on punishing him by denying him the chance to fight by your side?”

That was _exactly_ what she had been doing, she realized as she sank back onto the couch. The excuses she’d given herself - craving time and space away from her and how he probably needed to figure out who he was without his illusions - were just that: excuses. Her shoulders sagged and she leaned forward, forearms resting on her thighs. “I don’t know, Dorian,” she whispered at last.

Silence passed between them, leaving her to her thoughts for longer than she was comfortable with. At last, he knelt in front of her and took her hands in his. “I will craft a sleeping draught for you that will be safe for you and my niece or nephew.”

She gave him an exhausted, grateful smile. “Thank you, Dorian. You are going to be the best uncle. My child will be lucky to have you in its life. I know I am.”

It could have been a trick of the light, but his eyes glittered he lifted one of her hands to his lips to brush a kiss across her knuckles. “Never forget that, Evelyn.” He released her and stood, smoothing the wrinkles from his tunic. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some research to do.”

At her nod of assent, he turned to the stairs. Just before descending, he paused to catch her eyes again. “Of all of the people in the Inquisition, Blackwall shouldn’t be the last to know. Tell him soon.”

He was gone by the time she figured out an appropriate response. With a sigh, she looked at the pile of papers on her desk. Facing her problems could wait when there was a mountain of work to scale.

********

A broad-brimmed hat popped into view beside her as she tried to focus on the latest reports about the Arbor Wilds.

“He doesn't know. The moments pass, not fitting. You promised.”

The words were an accusation. Cole was frowning when she finally looked at him.

“I never said I'd promise to tell him.” The defensiveness and petulance in her voice made her cringe. “I _will_ tell him. The time just hasn't been right. Things aren't settled between us and I can't just tell him before I ride off.” Hollow excuses did neither of them favors. With a sigh, she rubbed the back of her neck and leaned back in her chair.

Cole crossed his thin arms over his chest, a gesture he'd doubtlessly picked up from someone he'd encountered. His unhappiness with her answer was obvious and guilt kept her from looking at him for too long. “Perfect is a lie. His arms open and you turn away. Unsaid words scatter on the ground. Vows like shattered glass slicing with each step.”

“Cole, I -” The spirit would see through anything she said at this point; lying to herself was one thing, but she couldn’t lie to him. She rested her hands flat on the desk in front of her, trying to keep them still through sheer force of will.

Cold hands covered hers while Cole perched on the other end of her desk. “Broken edges rubbed raw. Shadows cross the sun. Looking at you hurts less and more.”

She wondered if he could feel the tremble of her fingers beneath his palms.

“I don’t know how to do this.” Her voice wavered. She was exhausted. That was all.

His hands were suddenly gone and he reappeared sitting on the railing by the stairs. “You do and you don’t. Knowledge isn’t the question. Willingness is.”

As always, he disappeared before she could reply.

*******

Cullen had ridden out of Skyhold two days after Evelyn’s return from Sahrnia to join the bulk of the Inquisition’s forces in the Arbor Wilds. They had been sent on ahead because their progress would be slowed by all of the supplies they needed for Maker knows what they faced out there. The Commander hadn’t left Skyhold undefended, but there were more recruits than seasoned soldiers.

Evelyn stood in the shade as she watched Blackwall training said recruits in Cullen’s stead. In Val Royeaux, the Commander had spoken with such vitriol and disdain for the lies he had been fed and the lives Thom Ranier had stolen. As a leader of men, the betrayal of those who had served under the disgraced captain had more than earned his disgust. While he might not have forgiven Blackwall - she still had difficulty thinking of him as Thom - Cullen had trusted him enough to leave the recruits’ training in his capable hands.

She couldn’t help but be reminded that seeing him training others to fight was how they had met. He was just a man trying to teach others to stand on their own and protect their homes and families. Without even knowing her then, he had raised his shield in her defense and stopped an arrow from piercing her skull.

It occurred to her that she never thanked him for that.

He would shrug off her gratitude. It was something anyone would have done. She had posed no threat and it would have been rude to just let someone shoot her before he’d had a chance to hear her out. She could almost hear his self-deprecation in the imagined conversation.

“While he’s no Cullen, your man’s good with the recruits.” Bull’s voice startled her and she felt her neck flush.

She bit the inside of her cheek to resist the impulse to immediately deny her connection to Blackwall. It surprised her that she could be so quick to distance herself from the man who shared her bed. No one would believe her anyway, least of all Bull. “That was never in doubt,” she finally murmured.

“So, it’s like that, is it?” He snorted and shook his head. “Boss, I don’t claim to know much about human relationships, but this is some bullshit.” There was a bark of laughter at his own accidental joke. “And I know all about _Bull_ shit.”

That comment earned him a swat on the arm and a quick smile that was gone as soon as it had appeared. “I don’t know what I’m doing when it comes to him. I’ve never been in this sort of situation.” She paused and inhaled slowly. “Everything before him was quick and hurried. Slaking thirsts for a few days. Maybe a couple of weeks at most. Then we’d go our separate ways. It was easy. It never mattered.”

“But he matters and what you two have matters. It’s some scary shit right there, huh?” He waited for her nod of agreement before continuing. “He’s a good man, whatever his name is now. No matter what happened in the past, he’s a man who will spend his future proving that he’s better than he used to be. He’ll keep trying. You just have to let him.

Her jaw tightened and he threw a heavy arm around her shoulders. “Look, Boss, you’ve done some amazing things. You’re a phenomenal woman and if we weren’t otherwise occupied, I’d be showing you things you could only dream of.” His leer was just punctuation at that point. “You just have a huge blind spot when it comes to how you feel.”

She elbowed his ribs and he let his arm fall away. “I understand that you’re trying to help in your own way, Bull, but I’m a big girl. I can handle this without interference.” Perhaps in telling him as much, she’d convince herself that she had everything under control.

That earned her another snort from him and he shook his head. No, he didn’t appear to believe her. “Whatever happens, I’ll have your back. You know me. I’m not going to piss off the woman who takes me to fight dragons.”

“Just keep that in mind or you’ll be in Skyhold for the next dragon hunt.” It was hard to keep from smiling while issuing her threat. Not that she’d ever leave the Qunari behind - watching him go up against the giant reptiles was far too much fun.

“Ouch. Now that’s just hurtful. Besides, who else would you bring? Blackwall?”

His keen eye caught her sharp inhale. He always knew how to find the chinks in her armor.

********

Stealth had always been a skill of hers. When she was younger, Evelyn was quite adept at sneaking out of the palace and off to adventure in the local taverns. She would always return just before dawn with no one the wiser.

Using that particular skill to leave a lover behind in her own room was not something she had ever planned.

Blackwall had still been fast asleep when the sun began to rise over the mountain peaks. Slipping out of his embrace and into the brisk air of her quarters had been more of a challenge than she cared to admit. It was the cold, she told herself as she set to work.

She lit a candle on her desk and sank down in her chair. The blank piece of parchment she had placed there the night before stared accusingly up at her. What was she supposed to write? There was so much she had to say yet couldn’t. Her fingers curled around the quill and she dipped it in ink, settling for a short note promising her safe return.

With that task accomplished, she set about the greater challenge of pulling on her armor without waking her companion. It wasn’t until she was tying her boots that she noticed he was sitting on the edge of the bed, hands loosely clasped in his lap, doing little to cover the fact that he was still very naked.

“I thought you were still asleep,” she explained, her fingers fumbling with the laces. Why did she feel so clumsy?

“'Course you did,” he replied. The bed creaked as he stood. He knelt in front of her and nudged her hands away from her boots. In the candlelight, she could tell his jaw was set in a firm line even as his fingers deftly finished the simple task she'd been failing. With that accomplished, he pushed up to his feet and stepped back. “You were just going to leave like that?”

“I left you a note.” The moment the words left her lips, she wished she could call them back. She sat there, numb, as betrayal and anguish warred in his eyes.

He took another step back, his spine stiff. She had seen Blackwall’s anger a number of times, the kind he had directed at himself for his failings and the fury he showed his enemies on the battlefield. Never before had his anger been turned on her.

“A note, Evelyn? A blasted note?” He didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t need to.

Oh, Maker, what had she done? She let out a shaky breath, grateful she was still sitting. “I couldn’t - what would you have wanted me to do? I’m not used to - I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

“Do? You could take me with you, for starters. Don’t ask me to watch you ride off into Maker knows what without knowing when or if you’ll come home.” Even angry, there was no keeping the pain from his voice.

After a moment, he let out a bitter laugh.“Sorry,” he said. “I have apologized nearly every day since Val Royeaux. It’s no use, is it? Either you’re going to decide to forgive me or not. We’re either going to make this work or -” His voice trailed and he turned from her, bending to retrieve the clothing he’d discarded only hours ago.

“Or what?” She hated how unsure she sounded. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

He shoved his legs into his trousers, his movements lacking their usual martial grace. “Or we’ll have to let each other go. You deserve a man you can trust and I -” He cleared his throat. “We can’t stay like this.”

“Blackwall, I-”

“Thom,” he corrected quietly as he stopped beside her on the way to the stairs. Calloused fingers cupped her jaw as he leaned to brush his lips across hers. “Stay safe, Evelyn. Come back to me.”

When Dorian came to retrieve her an hour after they should have been on the road, she was staring at the space Thom had occupied, lost in the memory of that last kiss. She'd never forget the feel of his fingers on her chin or the dimming hope in his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has been reading and offering their kudos and comments! It means a great deal to have your feedback. Also, huge thank you goes out to my beta, tinyfierce, for helping to get my work whipped into shape.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Magical wells and mirrors don't bring happiness. Also, it's time for some truths to be aired, no matter how painful.

The Arbor Wilds was the most beautiful place Evelyn hoped to never see again.

With its lush vegetation and vibrant wildlife, it had to be someone’s idea of Paradise on Thedas. That person probably wouldn’t take into account how thick and heavy the air felt or think of the steamy heat that stretched already fraying tempers. They would never consider the dangers hidden amid the splendor.

While the Inquisition’s troops had made significant headway, it felt as though their progress was stymied at every turn. Between the Red Templars and the unknown warriors that seemingly sprung out of thin air, everyone was getting frustrated with how far they had come from the forward camp.

“You know what would’ve been handy, Boss?” Iron Bull grumbled as he propped himself up with his double-bladed axe. The fighting had been brutal and the Qunari was looking understandably winded, not that he’d ever admit it out loud.

“If the words ‘another blade and shield’ are about to escape your lips, I’d advise you to find other ways to occupy them.” Evelyn’s arms were leaden as she sluggishly secured her bow. “You knew that was out of the question.”

Dorian snorted when Bull’s focus turned to him. “Don’t look at me to occupy your lips. I’m far too exhausted for that kind of nonsense and I’m practically _wilting_ out here.”

In his defense, Evelyn had to admit that even Dorian’s mustache was drooping.

Bull cursed under his breath and strapped his axe to his back. “Fine.” He looked through the trees ahead of them, his good eye squinting. “I think I see the camp. What do you think the odds are that we’ll make it there without being shanked?”

“Decent, not guaranteed, but there's no knowing without trying.” The forced optimism in her voice had her wincing. She didn't believe her words any more than her companions did. At least she didn’t have to dodge any projectiles lobbed in her direction.

For now, anyway.

Bull grunted. “If we get ambushed on the way to camp, it’s your fault - just so you know.” He slowly scanned the path ahead and, satisfied for the moment, made his way up the hill.

Solas and Morrigan followed along after him, locked in some sort of esoteric discussion that Evelyn couldn’t even begin to understand. Just as she’d finished making sure her knives were all in place, she felt a tug on her sleeve. “What?”

“He could have meant that he wished for the presence of our dear Seeker, you know,” Dorian gently chided her. “Much as I enjoy your company and Bull’s, I don’t understand why you’d choose me for this trip instead of another warrior.”

Evelyn watched Dorian as he raked his fingers through his hair. There was no hope for his usually well-styled coif at this point. She felt a little guilty for dragging him along, but _only_ a little.

“You probably think this has something to do with my relationship troubles, but it doesn’t.” Well, not entirely, but she couldn’t tell him that. He’d want an explanation and she wasn’t going to give him one. “I couldn’t go here without Morrigan, and Solas wouldn’t forgive me if I left him behind. Bull was a given - and you?” She let out a breath. “I need someone who can explain magic shit to me in words that I understand while not making me feel like a complete and total idiot.”

“So, it has absolutely _nothing_ to do with the way I found you in your quarters in Skyhold?” Dorian’s fingers curled around her arm, cutting off her ability to escape.

She tried to yank her arm from his grasp. “I thought we agreed not to talk about that.”

“ _We_ said nothing.” His fingers tightened on her arm. “You merely assumed, and I respected your wishes until now.”

Frowning, she suppressed a wince at the tightening grip. “You have a surprisingly strong grip, Dorian. Must be all of that time holding a staff, hm?” She yanked again. “Just let me go. The Qunari with the axe is getting farther away and I don’t feel like getting caught without an axe between me and whatever's out there.”

He held on for another moment before releasing her. “You’ll need to talk about it one of these days, Evelyn, and I’m not going to let you deflect forever.” His expression softened. “You’re my dearest friend and your happiness means the world to me - almost as much as mine does, anyway.” His usual wink served its purpose to ease the tension in the muggy air.

For a moment, Evelyn allowed herself to relax. Unbidden, a smile lifted the corners of her lips. “All right, all right. Enough sentimental nonsense.” She nudged him with her shoulder. “Let’s go catch up.”

********

Hours later, Evelyn had been given a full report of troop movements, losses, and any information they had been able to gather about their foes. While Corypheus’ forces were obvious enough to be tracked and tallied, there was no knowing how many more ghost elves would pop out of the bushes. Cullen hadn’t liked telling her that any more than she’d liked hearing it.

Bone-weary and exhausted in more ways than she ever thought possible, she found her way to her tent. All she wanted to do was fall face-first on her cot and think about getting out of her armor later. She hadn’t expected company.

“How is it that your cot is far more plush than mine? Do they know that I have a bad back and a delicate constitution?”

 It was hard to tell whether or not Dorian was joking. The mage was far from delicate.

Evelyn groaned and started tugging at the straps of her armor. “I promise that it’s no different than the cot you have. Besides, don’t you have a comfortable Qunari to sleep on? He certainly looks like he’d serve as a decent mattress, albeit a little on the lumpy side.”

Dorian rolled his eyes and snorted. “In this heat? The Bull’s a furnace. I’d be happy in his arms in the Emprise or some similar clime, but this? Oh no,” He watched her for a moment. “You’re making a mess of that, Evelyn. Let me.”

Too tired to argue, she stood there as he helped her out of her armor and left her in her tunic. “What are you doing here, anyway? Not that I don’t mind the company, but I’m no fit companion.”

“I’m here to educate you on proper buckle maintenance, of course,” he replied dryly as she gave his arm a half-hearted swat.

“No, really. You’re here for a reason that’s not helping me with my buckles or complaining about my cot. I know you.”

“You wound me! You speak as though I have _ulterior_ motives. Truly, I am merely here-”

“Dorian.”

“Because Bull and I have a wager to settle,” he finished with a flourish.

“A wager that involves your presence alone in my tent?” Her eyes narrowed. “I’d expect Bull in here for something like that before you, unless you’re not telling me something.”

Dorian balked, wide-eyed. “Oh no, it’s nothing like _that_. The thing of it is - Bull seems to believe that you still haven’t told Blackwall - Ranier - whatever his name is about the child you’re carrying.” His long-fingered hands gestured vaguely in the dim light. “I told him that you must have said something to him and that’s why you were uncharacteristically quiet and tardy.”

“Ah, I see.” She lowered herself into one of the chairs in her tent, grateful that it was sturdy. The last thing she needed was to take some kind of tumble and be fussed over. “And where does the wagering come into it? Also, please tell me that you were having this discussion out of earshot.”

“Absolutely! Your privacy is certainly secure. Though, if I were you, I’d be more mindful of when and where you decide to empty your stomach’s contents. The frequency of your vomiting can only be blamed on the heat for so long.” He held his hands up to silence her imminent protests. “It can’t be helped, but they do worry about their Inquisitor.”

She slumped in her chair and wiped a hand over her face. “And the wager?”

Dorian brightened. “Yes, the wager. While the amount in question is a pittance, it’s ultimately a matter of pride. I can’t let him be right about something like this. He thinks he knows you so well. _I_ know you better. You couldn’t be so callous as to leave on such a mission without telling the man who loves you that you’re carrying his child.” There was no mistaking the hope in his eyes. Much as he tried to deny it, he was always something of a romantic, an otherwise endearing trait that Evelyn was now fiercely cursing.

“It would have been cruel to have told him and then left without him. What if something happens and I don’t make it back to Skyhold?” It sounded so coldly pragmatic when saidaloud. “It’s better this way.”

Dorian pulled up the other chair to sit in front of her, disappointment clinging to him like the sweat-stained silks he wore. “Better for whom, Evelyn?” He held her gaze for an uncomfortable, unflinching moment.

She was the first to look away. “How was I supposed to tell him? How could I have given him that knowledge and then made him watch me ride off into possibly-certain death?”

“You could have simply told him and then changed your mind and brought him with you.” He reached out to turn her face toward his again. “He _should_ be here guarding you and his child, not I.” His eyes narrowed. “There’s something else, isn’t there?”

Evelyn nodded and let out a slow breath. “Before he left, he told me to find a way to forgive him or to let him go. ‘We can’t stay like this,’ he said.”

And the conversation replayed in her mind every time she lay down to sleep.

He let her words linger in the air for a moment as if considering their weight. “He’s not wrong. Yes, he lied to you. He lied to all of us, but you most of all. If that is something you can’t and won’t forgive, then there’s nothing to be done but to let him go. He’ll punish himself enough without you doing it for him.”

“I can’t,” she whispered. “Angry as I am about the lies, it was just his name and his record as a Grey Warden. His loyalty and sense of duty, his fairness and humor - everything that makes him the man he is, that was never a lie. That never changed.” Thinking about his wry laugh and the way he always put others first nearly made her smile, but her misery kept it at bay.

“Then why have you kept your silence about the child?” Dorian’s voice was gentle, but firm. There would be no avoiding this question.

A thousand answers swirled through her mind. “Because I’m scared and because I’m angry that I didn’t know it was a possibility. I’d have taken preventative measures. I’d have - I don’t know, Dorian. I deserved some kind of warning that this could happen.”

He took both of her hands in his. “Then tell him that. Tell him all of it. I’d find some way of phrasing it with a little more _delicacy_ if I were you, but you should be honest with him. That’s what you told him you wanted, right? Honesty. You are choosing to carry his child. He has a right to know.”

She gave his hands a squeeze. “You’re right. If - when we get back to Skyhold, I’ll tell him. I promise.”

“Good.” He brushed her knuckles with his thumbs, a comforting caress. Then, he gently released her hands. “And now you’ve put me in a difficult situation.”

“How so?”

“I have to tell Bull that he won our wager. He’ll never let me hear the end of it and it’s all your fault.” He looked so dismayed, Evelyn couldn’t help but laugh.

“You have my sincerest apologies, but I think you like losing wagers to him almost as much as you like losing arguments.” She gave him a wicked grin. “I’ve heard the strange noises coming from your tent.”

She ducked the rag he flung at her and she could see the way his cheeks were filling with color in the candlelight. “What happens between us in private is - well, we’re not talking about Bull and I. That’s another subject for another time.” He smoothed a hand over his hair. “Now, I’m going to go make sure he isn’t making a nuisance of himself.”

“You look fine, Dorian. Go – he's probably waiting for you..” She ducked another projectile before Dorian finally left her alone with her thoughts.

********

The Temple of Mythal had been both expected and decidedly unexpected. Since she had wanted to be respectful and avoid any unnecessary fighting, she went through each of the rituals. At least they had been able to make allies of Abelas and his sentinels, despite Bull's continuous and muttered protests throughout.

There was no avoiding the confrontation with Samson, but at least his armor was no longer a threat. By the time they had made it to the Well, they were bloodied, bruised, and exhausted.

Exhausted and aching from the battle with the Templars, Evelyn barely had time to catch her breath, much less consider the world-altering consequences of drinking from some kind of magical well. The discussion had been, thankfully, brief. Morrigan took to the water without a moment's hesitation.

As if on cue in some overwrought, melodramatic play – Varric must be branching out – Corypheus swooped in, catching them unawares and vulnerable. They had no choice but to travel by Eluvian – those mirrors gave her the creeps. She took a deep breath and followed her companions through the Eluvian, leaping into the safety of Skyhold.

After Dorian, Bull, and Solas had gone to rest, Evelyn stared at the Eluvian. While studying her distorted reflection, she wondered if she had made the right choice. Morrigan was a newcomer to their cause, but she was a veteran of the Fifth Blight and had fought alongside Leliana. The Spymaster didn’t entirely trust her, she had said bluntly, but believed she would be of help.

“You wonder if you have given too much power to a potential foe.” Morrigan’s voice drew her from her thoughts. “I would wonder the same, but you have my word that I have no intention to harm you.”

Evelyn turned slightly to study her, trying to weigh the truth of her words for herself. “I believe that, Morrigan. I am just - there are a lot of people out there whose lives depend on me. I wonder if it should have been me to step into the Well and into the unknown. I am the Inquisitor, after all.”

“‘Tis hard enough to know what the mark will do to your unborn child, but the Well? Why tempt fate more than you already have?”

Those unearthly green eyes saw far too much, and Evelyn did her best not to squirm under the witch’s scrutiny. “How did you know?”

Morrigan’s lips curved into a slow smile. “I could tell you that the voices whisper your secrets in my ear, but ‘twould be a lie. In truth, your eating habits gave you away. A mother recognizes these things in another.” Her head tilted to the side, green eyes narrowing at something she saw in the Eluvian. “Ah, I see the father was unaware of this development.”

“The fath-” Her voice stopped short as she looked over Morrigan's shoulder to see Thom in the doorway, jaw clenched and eyes full of far too many emotions for her to name. “Thom, I -”

With a smile that Evelyn could have sworn was an attempt at sympathetic, Morrigan moved past her and toward the doorway. “‘Tis time I took my leave. You know where I can be found.” With that, she stepped around Thom and out into the courtyard, granting the two their privacy.

For what felt like an eternity, the air filled with a heavy silence. He stepped into the room and too-carefully closed the door behind him. At last, he spoke.

“Is what the witch says true? Are you carrying a child? Our child?”

She took a step back toward the Eluvian, wondering where it might take her. After all, how could she respond to that? Blunt, honest, and there was no skirting around it. There was no avoiding the conversation that was just about to happen.

“Yes,” she whispered, avoiding his eyes. Instead, she fixated on the telltale curling and uncurling of his fingers in those well-worn leather gloves.

That was no help at all.

“Were you going to tell me, Evelyn? Or were you just going to hope I didn’t notice until you could send me off on a fool’s errand for a few months? Maybe you were going to take some diplomatic trip without me? Unless -” He let out a ragged breath and her gaze lifted to his face. His blue-grey eyes were stormy. “You aren’t going to - you didn’t keep this from me because you -”

She swallowed the lump in her throat. “Dorian offered his assistance in that regard, but I couldn’t. I wouldn’t.”

Some of the severity loosened in his expression, but only some. It may have been relief that passed through his eyes, but it was gone almost as soon as it had appeared. “Of course. I don’t know what I was – wait, Dorian? _Dorian_ knew? Who else?”

“Cole, Bull, and Morrigan now. I don’t know if anyone else has guessed.” She was fidgeting, she realized. Her fingers twisting around each other. It had been years since that particular childhood tic had manifested itself.

He nodded at the names, his jaw tightening. “How long have you known?”

“I found out on the road home from Sahrnia. Cole - well, you know how he is.” A ghost of a smile flitted across her lips. “He told me and with the timing and everything, it made sense. Bull guessed using his Ben-Hassrath training.”

She could see the calculations he was making. She’d done the same.

“So, you knew the entire time we were together last? I was in your bed, holding you in my arms every night, and you never said a bloody word?” His voice rose. Anger and anguish warred in those beautiful eyes of his. “Why?”

It was the question she couldn’t answer. She hadn't been able to even sort it out for herself and it certainly wouldn’t be easy to explain to him. “I didn’t know how. I still don’t. I was going to tell you, but the moment never seemed right. I was planning for the Arbor Wilds. There was just no time -”

He held up a hand to stop her. “Don’t give me your excuses. I’ve had enough of my own to last a lifetime. You don’t have to waste your words. It’s simple enough: you didn’t tell me because you didn’t want to.”

She winced at his all-too-accurate words.“You’re right,” she admitted. “I didn’t, but I didn’t want you to find out like this. I wanted to tell you on my own terms when I was ready. I knew you had to know eventually, but - not like this.”

“Were you waiting until your belly made it obvious and all of Thedas was speculating about who the father of the Herald’s bastard was?” His words held a mocking tone as his eyes narrowed. “You wouldn’t want to admit it was the _criminal_ you bedded. That would tarnish the Inquisition’s carefully crafted reputation.”

“Don’t you dare speak to me of your past or your reputation!” She threw her arms wide, her words sharp. “I never wanted this - any of this! I thought I was with a _sterile Grey Warden_. You lied to me about who and what you were.”

The fight was leaving his eyes, but she couldn’t stop herself.

“You made a fool of me. I thought - Maker’s breath- I thought you always found a way to. . . _finish_ outside of me out of some strange chivalric notion that you didn’t want to taint Andraste’s chosen.” She let out a mirthless laugh. “I made all kinds of excuses for you because it never once occurred to me that you’d lie. Now _I_ carry the evidence of that ignorance.”

He took a step back toward the door, his eyes haunted and his lips pressed in a firm, grim line. “That last time before I left for Orlais, I thought, ‘What’s the harm? Just this once.’ You wrapped your legs around me and I couldn’t deny you - deny us.” He held her gaze and all she saw there was regret and pain. Immediately, she regretted her part in putting them there. “I wasn’t thinking of the future, only a hangman's noose. I’m sorry, my lady.” Evelyn watched as his fingers wrapped around the door handle and he pulled it open.

Her hand was on his arm before she realized that she had moved to his side. “Thom, please. Don’t - I didn’t mean -”

With a touch far gentler than she felt that she deserved, he pried her fingers from his arm and released her hand. “Ranier or Blackwall,” he corrected quietly. “I don’t want to - I wouldn’t want to presume an intimacy that doesn’t exist.” The words sounded forced and each hit her like a blow.

Maker, what had she done?

“Please, excuse me, my lady.”

He reached for the door again, and this time, she let him go.

**Author's Note:**

> I will be updating the tags as the work continues. I'm still getting the hang of this site and everything. Bear with me.


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